"In this world, there is no place that belongs to me. Even if it's just as a laborer, or for the simplest of tasks… please, give me something. I want to see them again," Kell whispered, his face wet with tears. His heart trembled, sensing a fleeting warmth—someone's presence.
Frazaris said nothing. His face was expressionless, cold, and devoid of emotion. Then, without a word, he ascended into the sky, disappearing into the Immortal God Realm. Only his afterimage remained—a silhouette bathed in celestial light, like an angel cloaked in ancient dust, emanating an aura lost to time.
Kell simply stood there, watching. Questions swirled in his heart.
Why is it always like this? Is this my end? I have no powers… No matter how hard I try, I'll never reach that place.
Tears welled in his eyes as the echoes of the past returned—voices that had once tormented him. The cruel words of those who belittled him came flooding back: "You are nothing. Useless. A burden on this world. You don't deserve to live."
In the silence of the abandoned sect, those haunting voices echoed louder than ever. He felt himself sinking into a sea of darkness. And yet, he walked on—each step dragging the weight of memories too old to forget. The deserted halls of the sect became corridors of ghosts. His face was marked with despair.
He wandered without purpose, through the sect's abandoned structures, over cliffs and ravines, through forests once thunderous with war. For three days, without food or rest, he kept walking. His muscles wasted, his eyes sunken and hollow. In this silent world, only the rustle of leaves and the wind's breath reached him. The thunder and lightning crashing above tore at his heart with helpless sorrow.
No one listened. No one understood. He knew—Frazaris had said those comforting words only to offer him peace. "You are special." But even Kell didn't believe them.
And that was the truth.
With each passing moment, he remembered only the people he loved—the ones he feared he would never see again. The rain soaked him to his bones, but even it couldn't silence the storm within. His cries were louder than the mountains, his doubts deeper than the ravines.
Three days passed, and he hadn't spoken a single word.
Finally, standing beneath the rain that had not stopped since Frazaris departed, he whispered:
"Perhaps… this is where I remain, until the end. But please, my Lord… let those I love be happy."
"Maybe I am special, or maybe I'm not… but whatever makes me me, is mine alone. Maybe this was always my fate—to walk alone, to belong only to myself. Maybe that's what destiny wanted. I was useless once… I still am. They were right. I shouldn't have been born in this world. Maybe… this is what fate truly is."
Each word deepened the furrows in his brow. He sank further into sorrow, remembering Frazaris's parting words:
"This is either a new beginning… or the end."
That meant only one thing: some would live… and others would never return.
And amidst it all, a whirl of white and black energy began to spin—a Yin-Yang cycle, formed from the ambient forces around him. During this strange phenomenon, a middle-aged figure appeared—one who seemed to have known the world for centuries, to have seen everything that was, is, and could be.
From behind Kell, a deep yet gentle voice echoed—one that soothed the soul:
"Where have you disappeared to, child? The world is small… but our minds are vast. It's because of this vastness that the world feels so empty. Look at this silence—feel it. Embrace it. This silence… will lead you to yourself."
"Meet yourself. Once you do, this world will no longer feel too big. The cosmos within you is greater than the one around you. Know yourself. Each soul is here for a reason… and you, my friend—my child—are here for something unique. You are not part of the crowd… You are something more."
These words reached Kell's ears like a dream. He wondered if he was hallucinating. Perhaps the loneliness had finally driven him mad. So he said nothing, gave no reaction, and just kept walking.
But then—a hand touched his shoulder.
It was a heavy hand. Calloused, scarred, and rough—hands that had fought countless wars, taken lives, and saved others.
Startled, Kell turned around, as if shaken from a nightmare, the look on his face like someone who had been struck awake by a slap…
Ash floated in the wind like snow, falling silently around Kell as he stood frozen. The sky above was dim—neither night nor day—cast in a ghostly twilight. In front of him, framed by the smoldering remnants of a shattered battlefield, stood a tall, muscular man.
He looked like he had stepped out of a forgotten legend.
Brown hair, long and windblown, cascaded down to his shoulders. A faint beard framed a jawline carved with elegance and resolve. Scars, deep and countless, crisscrossed his chest and arms, each one a silent witness to a thousand unseen battles. Yet not one mark diminished the ethereal calm of his face.
He smiled.
That smile was not born of arrogance or cruelty—it was the quiet smile of someone who had seen endless lifetimes and still chose kindness. His eyes, a deep bronze, glowed with a calmness that unsettled Kell's soul in the gentlest way.
For a long moment, the two simply stared at each other.
Kell's breath caught. Who… is he? The man's presence alone felt like it could shift the tides of fate. His heart pounded, but oddly—not in fear. In peace.
And then, with a voice softer than a whisper but deeper than thunder, the man spoke:
"Are you the last one standing, child?" he asked.
Kell struggled to speak. "Who are you? Is this... real? I thought no one was left here. Am I... dead? Or lost in a dream?"
The man chuckled lightly, the sound as soothing as rain on parched earth. "No dream. And you are very much alive. I am Fuzi. The world knows me as Lord Fuzi. I have come from beyond the veil—from the same place that angel arrived. I know what has happened here. I know what will come next."
Kell blinked, overwhelmed. This man—this being—his words echoed with truth.
Fuzi took a step forward. "You feel hollow. You believe you are broken. That there is nothing left in you worth saving. Am I wrong?"
Kell's voice cracked. "I'm... nothing. I have no power. I'm just a failure. A weight this world has long stopped carrying."
But Fuzi's eyes held no judgment. Only purpose.
"No, Kell," he said softly. "You are exactly who I've been searching for."
The air shifted.
"I've come to make you my disciple. You will be the first… and the last."
Kell's knees weakened. He nearly stumbled. "W-what? Your disciple? But… why? I have nothing to offer. I'm not special. I—"
"You are needed," Fuzi said firmly. "And if you accept, you will meet them again those you've lost."
Kell froze. "Them?"
A flash of warmth surged through his chest—them. A memory. A hope.
"But why me?" Kell whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. "If you want my life, take it. Just don't lie to me. Please… don't give me false hope."
Fuzi's expression turned solemn.
"Then let the world itself judge my truth."
Without hesitation, he bit the flesh of his own hand. Blood welled up, crimson and rich. He raised his finger to the sky, his voice echoing across the broken land.
"I, Lord Fuzi, swear upon this world—every word I've spoken to Kell is true. I seek nothing from him but his choice. And if I lie… may this world erase me from its weave."
The skies roared.
Red clouds bloomed like wounds in the heavens. Blue lightning tore through the firmament. Thunder cracked like the war drums of gods.
Kell's eyes widened—he knew this oath. Knew what it meant. What it cost.
He dropped to his knees.
"I… I'm sorry," he whispered, tears spilling freely. "Forgive me for doubting you."
And then, with head bowed and heart open, he said the words that would bind his fate forever:
"Master."
Fuzi smiled again, a rare warmth touching his battle-worn face.
The oath was complete.
"The world does not choose the worthy—it breaks them first, then waits to see who stands back up."...Lord Fuzi to Kell.
And in that stillness, something ancient stirred…